Cherimon
by isthisjustphantasy
Summary: Alex is restless, but he doesn't know why. I watched charlie and alex's videos about fanfiction, found them funny and thought I'd join in. Never written fanfic before, so we'll see how it goes :P llllllllllREUPLOADED in it's original state (oh god the embarrassment) due to popular demand. First ever fanfiction aw I CATEGORICALLY NO LONGER SHIP CHERIMON IN ANY FORM OH GODlllllllll


Warm silence filled the air in a squashy layer of cotton-wool contentedness. The kind of silence that can only be shared by the closest of friends; one hundred percent comfortable in each other's presence. Charlie was hunched over his computer editing a video, cup of tea in hand, frozen in bleary eyed concentration. In stark contrast Alex lounged across the sofa with his laptop balanced bizarrely on his lap – one leg stretched high over the back of the sofa, the other bent almost to his chin in a position his old gym teacher would have been proud of; but he found oddly comfortable. He was 'working hard' - a smug grin etched permanently on his face: scrolling through the endless deluge of love and adoration spread across twitter and youtube, smirking at the crazier comments and sipping his tea.

_Maybe this position isn't so comfortable_ Alex mused, shifting his weight to the other leg then attempting a complicated manoeuvre and slipping halfway down the sofa. In a moment of horror the tea started tilting in slow motion towards his face and the laptop began to slide reluctantly off his lap. He was forced into a split second decision – he could only save one.

The laptop fell to the floor with a thud, followed shortly by Alex.

Making no attempt to right himself he lay on the floor, one leg still stubbornly on the sofa, and sipped his tea.

Very quickly, Alex decided drinking tea upside down, although very effective for helping the tea leave the mug, left much to be desired in the cup-to-mouth accuracy area. Anyway, it was going cold. He jumped up and padded barefoot into the kitchen to make himself a new cup and wash the tea out of his hair.

He leaned against the counter waiting for the kettle to boil and humming. From this position, he could just see Charlie in the living room; still hunched over the computer. He smiled softly to himself: Charlie had barely moved since he started 2 hours ago, except to sip his tea (which by now must be much colder than Alex's). He performed a little tea-making dance then wandered out into the landing, stopping to blow a kiss to the Amy Pond cardboard cutout.

Alex mooched around the house, pausing now and then to stroke the strings of his guitar, fluttering his fingers across the notes and crooning quietly to himself. He was restless. Sometimes he would just feel the need to DO something, usually to write a song or make a video; and now and then embark on some harebrained but genius scheme. But today he couldn't figure out what was bothering him. He wanted to do something outrageous; make an announcement that would shock; try something new...

He wandered back into the living room and leaned against the door frame watching Charlie work quietly. If only he had that level of concentration and motivation he'd get so much more done. He slumped down on the couch again and flipped open the laptop, determined to get some work done at last.

5 minutes later and the silence was broken by a burst of guffaws from the couch, making Charlie jump and spill his tea. Alex had somehow ended up on a particularly disturbing slash fiction, [shush] and started reading out his favourite parts to Charlie. The room was filled with laughter and the restless feeling dwindled; but as Charlie settled back to work Alex could feel it creeping back. He didn't want to disturb his friend anymore so he slipped softly out of the room, already feeling the twinges of guilt.

He rambled aimlessly around the house before grabbing his coat and heading outside. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head and let him concentrate.

He soon found himself by the river, watching a family of ducks peacefully making their way upstream. He cast his eyes to the bridge and wondered randomly if jumping off it would make a good video. Maybe he could wear a morph suit... or jump in after his Amy Pond cardboard cut-out... the cool air had helped, but this wasn't inspiration. A video with Charlie always went down well... but Charlie was busy, Alex couldn't disturb him again. Frustrated, he turned on his heel and headed back to the house.

Kicking a can furiously he marched down the street. The restlessness was no longer gnawing but now ripping and tearing at his brain, and he had to fight off a wave of hysteria that threatened to engulf him. He had to figure out what was eating him. Something wasn't right.

Head clouded with angry thoughts, he burst back into the house and stormed upstairs to take a shower; failing to notice the little red light outside that indicated the hot water was on.

Alex flung the door open and the momentum carried him forwards into the wall of hot, wet steam; and straight into the dripping body of his housemate Charlie, who was climbing out of the shower and reaching for a towel. They both froze, the steam engulfing them. Each bead of moisture seemed to carry a burst of electricity and a current of sparks flew across the contact point where their bare, damp skin touched. In the closeness of the room Alex gasped, staring into Charlie's shocked eyes, all the frustration draining out of him in a torrent of emotion. He opened his mouth to blurt out an apology but the air caught in his lungs.

He turned and fled.


End file.
